I stood by him.
Overwhelmed by the longing I felt for him.
He knew me, my inner soul, my failures, my pain.
The very depths of my being,
I revealed to him gratefully, happily, openly.
He softened the pain that consumed me,
with safety and security.

All these years
I waited: wanted to be loved.
With feelings of regret.
Was I good enough?
Will I ever be beautiful enough?

His good intentions;
he knew not what he did.
Taking my heart along with him,
wanting to be a hero,
someone’s protector.

He wanted to be loved;
wanted a purpose.
Needed the reassurance from anyone
that he was strong enough.

I needed him, depended upon him,
consumed by a love unreciprocated by him.
Time spent talking, laughing, crying.
So much time,
I spent willingly, happily, openly.
Deep inside I knew he did not love me, like me, see me.
He was blinded, consumed by his need

to be a hero.

He saw a girl,
just a girl… nothing more,
with a need to feel important.
To be a protector, someone’s protector,
anyone’s Hero.